


Sprouting Words

by NotPersephone



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Happy Lecter family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Mira has been more and more talkative, a clear indicator that fully formed words will soon follow. And Hannibal seems to have wanted his to be the first one.





	Sprouting Words

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt that has been sitting in my inbox for years: bedannibal trying to teach their baby something mundane (ie. walking, talking, etc). I was not very keen on the idea then, but I obviously am now and I hope there's still someone who will enjoy it.  
> This is my 120th bedannibal post here *pops champagne to raise a glass for my beloved weirdos*

Tiny hands splash the surface of water with obvious delight, sending droplets flying above the edge of the bathtub. It appears that rolling the sleeves up to prevent them from getting wet was a futile endeavour, Hannibal reasons as another spatter of water lands on the front of his already soaked shirt. Still, he continues to pour handfuls of warm water over his daughter’s back, ignoring the distraction. Mira babbles happily, obviously enjoying her bath and being surrounded by water.

“Your mama likes baths too, you know,” he says with a smile. Nothing makes him happier than seeing her take after Bedelia. “But she is usually less enthusiastic,” he explains as another drop leaps for freedom from under Mira’s playful fingers, this time reaching his face.

“My sister liked baths too,” taking the sponge, Hannibal adds almost offhandedly, more a fact than a painful memory now that the sound of bones rattling against the copper no longer haunts the rooms of his mind. It has been long replaced by the alluring melody of Bedelia’s voice and the vibrant cords of their daughter’s laughter filling the walls of the castle and echoing pleasantly in his memory palace.

The laughter that now grows louder as Mira sends another sprinkle of water to land on Hannibal’s neck, a rather purposeful aim. She returns to her chatter as he sponges her tummy, evidently having a lot to talk about.

“I have not considered that, please go on,” Hannibal encourages her undistinguished talk.

The “conversation” continues and Hannibal marvels at their daughter’s intelligence, soaking up every sound.

“That is all very interesting,” he concludes, putting the sponge aside, “But can you say dada? Da-da.”

Mira looks up at him, her eyes brilliant and full of curiosity, and laughs.

“Da-da,” Hannibal tries again, but to no avail as his daughter returns to be mesmerised by the surface of the water.

“Really, Hannibal?”

The voice startles him, and he looks up at once, caught in the act. He sees Bedelia standing in the doorway, arms crossed, smiling with amusement.

“Talking to a child is vital to their development,” he tries to explain, but she merely raises an eyebrow, not bothering to comment on how feeble his excuse is.

He falls silent, admitting defeat, as Bedelia steps closer, making Mira turn her head instantly with a smile, happy to see her.

“I thought we agreed to let her discover her own words,” she says, setting the towel down on the counter, “This is not a competition.”

Mira has been more and more talkative, a clear indicator that fully formed words will soon follow. And Hannibal seems to have wanted his to be the first one.

Bedelia reaches down and takes her daughter out of the bathtub; if she is unhappy to be abandoning the water, she does not show it, cuddling to Bedelia at once. She sits Mira down and wraps her securely in the towel before lifting her up again.

“At least _da-da_ did a wonderful job of bathing you,” she says to her daughter while giving Hannibal a puckish smile, “Shall we dress you?” she makes her way out of the bathroom and Mira expresses her agreement with another lively babble.

 

The same chatter fills the garden the following day as Bedelia takes Mira outside to show her the newly blossomed flowers. The tiny head turns in all directions, taking the colours and shapes with glee, pure rapture in her eyes. She seems to be particularly captivated by the cherry blossoms, hands reaching out, trying to touch them. Hannibal watches them both from a distance, his heart swelling in his chest; his goddess of spring and their daughter, he cannot imagine a more perfect picture. The garden is in full bloom and so are they.

He finally dares to enter their paradise, joining them in garden, just as Bedelia picks up a cherry blossom and gives it to Mira who examines it with delight, petite fingers touching pink petals repeatedly.

“Has mama showed you all the flowers?” he asks and Mira’s head lifts instantly at the sound of his voice.

“Mama,” Mira says suddenly, looking back at Bedelia. The word startles them both, leaving her lips so swiftly, they are unsure if they heard her right.

“What did you just say?” Bedelia cradles her daughter’s head, smiling.

“Mama,” she repeats, then turns her focus to the flower in her hands, and Bedelia now looks at Hannibal with a triumphant smile.

“It looks like we have won,” she kisses her daughter’s cheek.

“I thought you said it was not a contest,” Hannibal frowns, unexpectedly bested at his own game.

“Well, definitely not a close one,” still smiling, Bedelia teases him and walks towards him, hand reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“But do not worry, she still loves you,” she leans forward to kiss him, and Mira’s hands pat eagerly against his chest as if to confirm Bedelia’s words.

Hannibal wraps his arms around Bedelia’s waist, pulling them both close. Few cherry blossom petals fall around them, sealing the moment of serenity. There is no worry; he has never felt more of a victor. He has everything he has ever wanted.


End file.
